


Crescent Moon

by GingerTodgers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Activism, F/F, Genderfluid Character, Joggers, Trans Character, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/pseuds/GingerTodgers
Summary: Lavender and Parvati haven't seen each other for five years. Their reunion involves a lot of tea, joggers and protest signs.





	Crescent Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untilourapathy (gwendolen_lotte)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolen_lotte/gifts).



> Written for the first Twats & Joggers fest.
> 
> Massive thanks goes to unadulteratedstorycollector for modding the fest and being such a fandom wonder. And untilourapathy not only alpha'd and beta'd this fic, she also wrote a [slice of loveliness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13256511) for the same fest that I encourage you all to read.
> 
> If you want to read more about Pav+Lav as political activists then [Lav & Pav Predict the Future, Even During a Retrograde](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880938/chapters/29535261) by zeitgeistic is a joy.

“I’m just going to go ahead and say it,” Padma gazed up at the crumbling Victorian terrace house. “This feels a bit... murdery.”

Parvati had to admit that the murder vibes were strong. A broken drainpipe had stained the bricks, one of the windows was patched with cardboard and-

“Is that blood?” Padma’s attention had shifted to where a thick, lumpy, red liquid appeared to be leaking out of the keyhole. She turned to Parvati, her eyes twice the size they usually were. “This is a house of murder, Pav.”

“It’s not that bad...” Parvati said, wincing at how unconvinced she sounded.

“Murder house,” Padma hissed. “This house has already seen murders and we will be its next victims.”

“Well it’s clearly eaten recently,” Parvati nodded to the keyhole. “We’ll probably be safe for a few-”

“Not funny.”

“Yeah, sorry. So shall I ring the bell or...”

“No, you shall not ring the _literally_ bloody bell. Come on,” Padma turned. “We’re leaving.”

“Fine, see you back at the flat,” said Parvati as she pressed the bell.

“Did you just ring the bell?” A quick glance at Padma revealed that she was frozen halfway down the path.

“You don’t have to come in-”

“Pavvy!” A shriek of joy and a rectangle of golden light spilling onto the garden path was all the warning Parvati got before Lavender swept her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!” Lavender’s voice was muffled by Parvati’s scarf as she rocked the pair of them back and forth. “So bloody good,” Parvati winced at Lavender’s word choice, trying to mouth sorry to Padma while still being enthusiastically hugged.

Padma’s arms were crossed as she unleashed an eye-roll worthy of their Nani, but at least she seemed to have relaxed a bit.

“How long has it been?” Lavender untangled herself from Parvati, holding her at arms length. “Four years? Five?”

“Five years, yeah,” said Parvati, feeling rather breathless as she took in the scars stretching from Lavender’s hairline to her right ear. The eye with the scars running over it was cloudy white. “You, ah, you didn’t have these the last time I saw you,” Parvati gestured to Lavender’s gold-tipped braids.

“What? Oh! Yes I had Muggle extensions for a while but the stylist kept putting them in too tight and then I tried-”

“Is this blood?” Padma had stepped forward and was pointing at the glistening keyhole. “Because my sister is a bit of a twat but I’d rather she wasn’t murdered.”

Parvati felt Lavender stiffen in her arms and she turned to glare at Padma. Padma shrugged back, arms still folded.

“It’s fake,” said Lavender. “One of the boys on the top floor was filming a short for uni. Shall we go in?”

“How many people live here?” asked Padma, showing no signs of moving.

“14, I think. It changes.” Lavender turned to smile at Parvati again. “I know it looks a bit grim but-”

“It looks lovely,” Parvati hurried to reassure her. “Thanks for inviting us. We brought cardboard and bed sheets.”

“Brilliant,” Lavender beamed. “We’re running out of both. Just follow me,” she pressed past Padma and led the way into the house. Stepping back to let Lavender kick some abandoned boots away from the door, Parvati’s attention was drawn to the curve of Lavender’s hips, encased in a pair of scarlet jogging bottoms. Her breath caught and she quickly looked away. “Sorry about that,” Lavender huffed. “All clear now, this way!”

“Don’t say a word,” Parvati hissed to Padma as they inched inside the narrow hall.

“What, like _muuuuurder housssssssse,_ ” Padma sang back.

“For fucks- We’ll catch you up, Lav” Parvati called, putting out an arm to trap Padma in the entrance way.

“Lovely, Pav,” Lavender beamed. “Kitchen’s through here, I’ll put the kettle on.” Parvati waited until the kitchen door shut behind Lavender before taking a deep breath and swinging around to confront a smirking Padma.

“Look, right? We are guests and I haven’t seen Lavender in ages and you’re not helping matters and-”

“Fine.” Padma held up her hands in submission. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Oh I do hope not,” said a gravelly voice, making both of them jump.

“Excuse me?” Padma’s eyes were back to enormous.

“Yeah that was really bad, wasn’t it?” The owner of the voice stepped forward, sheepishly rubbing the back of their neck. “Sorry, I’m Millicent,” a chunky hand gripped Parvati’s hand and drew her into a fierce shake. “Not Lauren Bacall, although I sometimes forget that.”

“Well, you’ve got the dramatic entrances down,” Padma sounded a little faint.

“That and the bad habits,” Millicent plucked a cigarette from behind one ear and turned to shake Padma’s hand as well. “Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The twins spoke at once, Parvati wheeling around to stare at Padma.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since forever, Pav,” Padma’s eyes were fixed on Millicent. They were still shaking hands.

“Great, we can go outside.”

“Yeah, good one,” Padma murmured, following after Millicent without a backwards glance.

“Right, I’ll just be inside then,” Parvati called after them. “Just, you know, trying not to get murdered. By the murder house.”

“You fucking what mate?”

Spinning around, Parvati saw that Lavender and another woman had come back into the hall. Shit. Lavender looked like she’d been punched in the stomach and the woman who’d spoken looked like she was about to fly down the hall and rip out all of Parvati’s piercings.

“Those are just stories, Pav,” Lavender’s voice was shaky. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if-”

“It was a joke,” Parvati hurried to explain, mouth suddenly dry. “Because of the fake blood on the door. Padma called this a murder house and now she’s-”

“Enough,” the woman interrupted. “You coming Lav?”

“I...” Lavender cleared her throat. “If you’re not comfortable here we can do this somewhere else.”

“No I am!” Parvati hurried forward. “I want to be here, it was just a stupid joke. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” Lavender’s brown eye was scanning Parvati’s face. Parvati tried to work out if her face looked as sorry as she felt inside but it was difficult to tell. “Ok,” Lavender sighed, “come on.” She turned and hooked her arm through Parvati’s.

“I am sorry, Lav,” said Parvati. “I know that I’m safe with you.”

“Yeah, you are. Right then,” Lavender turned to the angry woman. “This is Octavia, Octavia meet Parvati.”

“Charmed.” Octavia’s voice was monotone, her scowl still in place.

“Leave it alone,” said Lavender, pulling Parvati into the brightly lit kitchen. “How do you take your tea, Pav? Same as at Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, just a bit of milk. Please.” Parvati reluctantly let go of Lavender’s arm so she could make the tea.

“I remember,” Lavender smiled over her shoulder as she reached for the mugs. Once again Parvati’s eyes fell to the joggers. They looked a bit like the pair Lavender had worn in 6th year, hidden under her robes to keep out the bitter winter chills.

“This is Pavvy, everyone,” Lavender was still talking, shouting over the rush of water as she filled the kettle. “Pavvy, this is Fig,” she pointed to a skinny teenager with hair the colour of Gillyweed. “Lorraine,” a woman almost as tall as Parvati raised a steaming mug of tea in greeting. “Wallace,” a nod from the man painting a large penis onto an A3 piece of cardboard. “And Octavia you’ve met.”

“H-hello,” Parvati gave them all a wave, moving to sit at the table with Fig. “What are you painting?”

“M’doing the giveaway signs,” mumbled Fig. “People who can’t be bothered to make their own signs but still want a protest selfie.”

“Right,” Parvati’s eyes travelled to Wallace’s large penis - the large penis Wallace was painting, she hastily corrected herself. “And you, Wallace?”

“Oh this is just for me,” he said as he grinned at her, canines glittering in the low-hanging light. “However, we have been informed that you come bearing bed linen?”

“Yes! Ahm,” she cleared her throat. “Yes I have the sheets here. Padma, my sister, we’ve already painted some slogans.”

“Lovely,” Lavender beamed, setting a mug of tea down next to Parvati. “Let’s see them. Wallace, you take the bed sheets and start on the Metamorphmagus banners, Lorraine can take over the give-away signs and Fig, do you mind checking if we’ve got any biccies left?”

The room erupted into a flurry of movement as Parvati pulled the rolled banner out of her rucksack. This would be the first protest she’d ever been on and she was worried that the colours she’d picked were a bit too...

“Ooo pretty!” Lavender cooed, unrolling the banner. It was painted in the trans flag colours, stripes of sky blue and powder pink, the words “Trans Rights” written across the white stripe in the centre.

“Bit obvious, isn’t it?” Octavia had moved over to look at the banner. “Like, we get that trans people should have rights, no one is arguing that-”

“Well actually quite a lot of people are arguing that,” Parvati interrupted, fighting to keep her voice level.

“Yeah, but this is a march to protest the werewolf and Metamorphmagus register,” Octavia carried on. “Not a sodding Pride Parade.”

Parvati opened her mouth to respond  and then, when no words came out, closed it again.

“Dear me, has Mean Octavia made another appearance?” Lorraine spoke up. “We’ve already been through this love. Soon as they register the wolves and metas, they’ll be after other people using magic to change their appearance until-”

“We get it, Lorraine,” Octavia snapped. “I’m just saying that the link between trans rights and wolf rights isn’t an obvious one.”

“Then it’s a good thing Pavvy is here,” said Lavender, glaring at Octavia. “She can help make it clear that this register will impact a lot more people than just werewolves like us and oh-” She covered her own mouth, staring up at Octavia in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you,” Octavia stood, collecting her banner materials together and heading for the kitchen door.

“Octavia...”

“Leave it Lav,” Fig spoke up, the banner they were working on read “Fuck the Register, Fuck the Cis-stem.” Parvati felt herself smiling as she read it, Fig smiled back.

“I can’t believe I outed her,” Lavender was moaning, head in her hands. “Why am I so stupid?”

“You were upset,” Lorraine reached up from her seat on the floor, rubbing Lavender’s large, scarlet thigh. Parvati watched the way Lorraine’s hand smoothed across the fabric and felt something twist in her chest.

“What’s up with Octavia?” Millicent was standing in the doorway, an arm wrapped around Padma’s shoulders. Padma was flushed, her eyes bright as she beamed at Parvati. Then the smile disappeared and she stepped forward:

“Pav? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” said Parvati, glaring down at the banner.

“No, why are you looking so upset?” Padma shrugged Millicent’s arm off as she went to sit on the other side of Parvati.

“I’m not,” Parvati drew in a deep breath. “Let’s get on with these banners. Come on Lav,” she said,  reaching out to gently to tap Lavender’s back. “Tell me what slogans you want on the cardboard.”

Lavender’s face was twisted in misery when she looked up, one big brown eye fixed on Parvati.

“Sorry,” she sniffed, catching Parvati’s hand in both her own. “I should go and check on Octavia.”

“Absolutely not,” Lorraine stood, cracking her back. “Octavia can stew for a bit and you two,” she pointed to Parvati and Lavender, “can go and get us hard workers a takeaway.” A chorus of appreciative groans greeted her words and in no time at all Parvati found herself heading off to the chippy with Lavender.


End file.
